Reaper III: Rookies

by Amanda M. Holt

  “Don’t let it happen again,” Phil said, with so stern a frown that he was furrowing the dark skin of his face into a multitude of wrinkles. “You have to look out…for yourself first, them second.” His brown eyes closed as he winced with pain. “Don’t forget that.”

  “How are you doing?” I asked him. “Do you really think you broke a rib?”

  “Cracked, if not broken.” He replied, with a grimace of discomfort. “As you can see… it’s important to always…always wear your body armor. No matter what the day or call. They stop most bullets, but even then…there’s no guarantee…that you won’t get hurt. I, for one…will be bruised to shit…from the slug my vest took.”

  A faint gurgle from Gary became the focus of our attention. He coughed and turned his head to the side, to spit out the spittle-laden blood that had come up from his throat. His breathing sounded more labored and there was faint gurgling with every exhalation he made.

  “I’ve seen this before,” said Phil, as sirens sounded in the distance. “I think they called it …a tension hemothorax. His lungs are probably…filling with blood.”

  “That isn’t good, is it,” I commented dryly, keeping pressure on his wound.

  “Nope,” Phil took hold of his radio and spoke briefly with the dispatcher.

  I turned my attention back to Gary.

  “Do you have any family that we should contact?” I asked him, pity in my voice.

  “Fucking cop, fucking killed me,” Gary whimpered, coughing again, with more blood—darker blood—showing this time. “Fucking bitch.”

  “Gary, do you have family or friends we should contact?” I repeated, trying to be compassionate.

  “Fuck you,” he replied, wild eyes filled with hatred as he tried to spit a bloody gob at me. From his position on the ground, it didn’t work out the way that he thought it would. He just ended up spitting on himself.

  It was pathetic, really.

  “Just imagine,” said Phil, done with the radio. “If this upstanding young …citizen lives long enough…to make it to court…his defense attorney will gladly start…tearing the shit out of this case…and trying his damnedest to get this punk off.” Phil was still sticking with short sentences, clearly in a lot of discomfort. “You know, Samantha…it would have been a lot less paperwork…if you had just killed him.”

  Phil was joking.

  At least, I thought he was…wasn’t he?

  As the sirens drew closer, I thought of the many forms that I’d have to fill out.

  “I can imagine the days of paperwork that lay ahead, for this.”

  “Well, Rookie, look at it this way…the positive thing is you finally…get to see what a shots fired report looks like.” Phil started to laugh, but ended up groaning instead. “I’m getting way too old…for this shit.”

  A squad car pulled up in the alley behind us, almost at the same time that the ambulance approached, its sirens screaming, lights flashing as it pulled into the loading dock of the Safeway. The two officers from the squad car were on us almost immediately.

  “Bring us up to date,” said the older of the two, a man with grey hair cut military-short.

  Phil looked at me, almost apologetically. “Look forward to a lot of questions…and even more paperwork.” He turned his gaze to the two officers. “Congratulate my Rookie on her…first real collar. Caught the guy red-handed and all.”

  As I looked down at Gary, I didn’t feel like I deserved to be congratulated at all.

  Of all the crimes that the Dark Thing had shown me, murder had not been part of Gary’s portfolio.

  If the Dark Thing didn’t want him dead, maybe he didn’t deserve to die…

  “Good job, Rookie,” said the younger of the two cops, whose name, I think, was Earl.

  “Thanks.” I said, trying to be courteous. “But it was either him or me. He merely left me no choice in the matter.”

  “Isn’t that often the case, though?” The older cop asked and then turned to his partner. “Well, let’s get started investigating this thing, eh?”

  “This is gonna be a lot of paperwork, I’m gonna be swamped.” Earl said and looked at me with something that might have been sympathy, or, upon closer inspection, might have been irritation. “Officer Bennet, I have to ask you a few questions about the shooting. Strictly routine stuff, don’t worry…”

  Meanwhile, the two paramedics vacated the ambulance and one of them opened its double backdoors. They each grabbed duffle bags full of supplies and ran the few steps to us, making every second count.

  I found myself wondering how many minutes poor Gary had left in this world, as they worked on him, cutting through his black hoodie with scissors, taking his pulse, his blood pressure, measuring his other vital signs, making their assessments. The paramedics were throwing medical jargon around as if it was confetti, working together like two parts of a well-oiled machine, seeming to predict each other’s actions before they even took a step toward them.

  Another squad car pulled up, with another pair of officers to join in the mix. The senior officer amongst us—Earl’s partner—ordered one of the officers from that car to accompany Gary in the ambulance, on his way to the hospital.

  At what point they actually arrested the kid, I don’t know.

  After the paramedics loaded the gurney, one of the officers from the second squad car got in the back of the ambulance with the Gary and the other paramedic closed the double doors behind the first and then went up front, presumably to drive. With that, the ambulance was gone, sirens blaring, lights flashing, in as dramatic an exit as they had made an entrance.

  Strangely enough, I found myself hoping that Gary would be all right, that he would seek help, rehabilitate and become a productive member of society.

  It was very nearly a prayer.

  I had never really prayed before. Not really. It felt odd, to be sending a small request on his behalf, to a Heaven that I had never given much thought to existing.

  Even if I didn’t believe in Heaven, it would later seem that Heaven believed in me…

  Undressing for the day in the women’s locker room several hours later, I saw that I had messages on my cell phone, one from my parents and one from Neal—whom I had been seeing now on a fairly regular basis, since our first night together back in January.

  I depressed the voice mail button on my phone and was soon listening to my mother’s message.

  “Samantha, it’s your mother calling. Please call me to confirm that you are going to be home for Sunday dinner.” I knew that she meant the family home, not my home. “We never seem to see much of you these days and we’d like to see for ourselves that you’re okay. If nothing else, I can at least be certain that you’ll have eaten at least one good meal this month. The last time we saw you, you were nothing but skin and bones. I worry for you, Samantha…really, I do. Call me.”

  I groaned and deleted the message, resolving to call her soon.

  Neal’s voice was soon filling my ear with the promise of an intimate encounter. “Hey, babe, gimme a call when you get off. I’d really like to see you tonight. We can watch a movie, eat some take out and then I can eat you out. Lemme know what you think of that. Ciao.”

  I smiled into my locker and deleted the message. He was so naughty… and I wouldn’t have had him any other way. I dialed him up. He answered on the second ring.

  “Hey Neal, I got your message. Your place or mine?”

  “Mine,” he said. “My bed’s bigger.”

  “Your mind is in the gutter again,” I scolded him, playful of tone.

  “In case you haven’t noticed recently, I am a man. All we think about is sex, twenty-four-seven.” He gave a small chuckle. “…and it seems lately that all I think about is sex with you.”

  “Twenty-four-seven?” I teased.

  “Twenty-four-seven.” He sounded so sexy, his voice so mischievous that it caused a sweet ache at my very core. “When will you be arriving?”

  “Well, I’m just fresh
out of the shower now,” I told him. “I’m still in the locker room. I just have to get dressed and I’ll be right over.”

  “Mmm. Clean pussy, my favorite.” His voice lowered, to ask: “Are you naked?”

  “I’m in a towel.”

  “What color?”

  “White.”

  “Sexy. I bet it contrasts well with your tan.”

  I looked at myself in the full-length mirror attached to the end of the lockers. He was right. I did look sexy, with my long tendrils of damp dark hair, pink cheeks, lean feminine muscles and a light tan that lacked tan lines.

  “It does.” I said simply.

  “Please, get here soon.”

  “I will.” I promised. “What are you feeding me tonight?”

  “Well, what do you want?”

  “Chinese.” I decided, without hesitation. “Battered chicken, sweet and sour or honey garlic—you pick. Veggie-fried rice and beef and broccoli. From the usual place.”

  “Worked up an appetite, did you?”

  “We worked through our lunch break.” My stomach growled its malcontent. “All I’ve had is coffee and a granola bar. I’m running on fumes.”

  “Heavy shift?”

  “I’ll fill you in later,” I promised.

  “Okay. I’ll call in the order, complete with spring rolls and fortune cookies.”

  “You’re my hero.”

  “See you soon, sexy.”

  “Not soon enough.” I ended the call.

  His apartment was quickly becoming one of my favorite places to be.

  I was beginning to get a little too comfortable there. His bed was like my haven from the world outside, my sanctuary. His arms were a sort of security that I had never known I needed.

  It was his bed, again, that I thought of as I drove to his place. It was his kiss and touch that burned in my memory and made me want him near me. They made me want more of him, more of his talented mouth and firm body. More of his gentle hands and hungry needs. I was filled with warmth at the very thought of touching his skin, breathing in his scent, as I remembered too well the taste and feel of him.

  Remembering his prowess between my thighs, I throbbed for him and knew I was already becoming wet with anticipation…

  Seeing that there was room, I parked my black Chevy Cobalt in the street outside of his apartment building and went up the front stairs to the lobby. I rang the buzzer for apartment twenty-three.

  “You rang?” the speaker came to life with Neal’s sense of humor, as he impersonated a black and white TV star.

  “It’s me.”

  “C’mon up, doll.”

  He buzzed me in and I walked up the two flights of stairs on knees that felt weak, like rubber bands. I wondered if it was more due to low blood sugar, or the fact that I was now quite horny. My stomach turned and twisted with more than mere hunger.

  There were those butterflies again.

  I was really looking forward to seeing him.

  That couldn’t be said of most of the people I knew, that was for sure.

  I turned the corner to enter the hall and heard the metallic click and slide of his deadbolt. His door opened a moment later and his blond haired head peeked out at me from around the doorframe. His blue eyes lit up when he saw me and the scent of incense filled the hall.

  “Well, Hello, nurse!”

  “Hi Neal.” They two were the only words I could seem to manage.

  He was gorgeous as always, his Aegean blue eyes genuinely happy to see me. His dirty blond hair was wet from the shower and he looked great, in a worn blue t-shirt that clung to his body and a pair of comfortable-looking navy gym pants.

  He smelled of his cologne and something a little less tangible – his scent.

  He wasted no time in kissing me so abruptly and so passionately that I nearly dropped the bottle of wine that I sported in my hands.

  “Nice to see you,” he said, letting me up for air.

  “Nice to see you, too.”

  “What’s this?” He asked, of the hard object wedged between us.

  “A chardonnay, by Robert Mondavi.” I replied. “I figured a white wine would probably go best with the Chinese food.”

  “You know me. I’ll drink anything.” Neal took the bottle of wine as he stepped back through the door to welcome me in. “Being a simple country boy and all.”

  The simple country boy line was his cop-out for everything.

  I wasn’t a wine connoisseur myself, but I knew a little about the differences between reds and whites and zinfandels. I had been a bartender, after all and even Charlie Friday’s—a primarily beer and shots dive – had carried wine from a few decent vineyards.

  I walked inside, saw the Chinese food take out boxes strewn across the coffee table of the living room, saw the tea light candles which were the source of the incense fragrance, scattered around the apartment. I took my winter boots and jacket off at the door and followed him into the living room, where he had set two cushions on either side of the coffee table.

  My stomach rumbled loudly, acknowledging the presence of the food.

  “Hungry?” He teased.

  “Very,” I replied, taking my cross-legged seat on one of the cushions.

  He smiled at me. “Then you start dishing your plate up and I’ll get some glasses for the wine.”

  I started opening the containers. “So how was your day off?”

  “Relaxing,” he answered from the kitchen behind me. “I didn’t do much o’anything and I was fine with that. I watched a bit o’cable and even had an afternoon nap. I drank some beers, waited for you to call back.”

  “Anything good on TV?”

  He reappeared in front of me, with a corkscrew and two wine glasses. “Nothing too exciting, nothing to write home about. How about you, Sam? How was your day?”

  “Well, I popped my cherry,” I told him, scooping sweet and sour chicken balls unto the plate he had provided.

  “Your cherry?” His head jerked up in alarm. “You discharged your weapon?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “What happened?”

  “I had to shoot someone today. Me and Phil, we got a call, an armed robbery in progress. The perp got a lucky shot in and Phil took one to the chest.”

  “Oh, shit.” His face froze with concern. “Is he okay?”

  “Yeah, he’s all right, just some bruised ribs.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  “I was so scared for him. So relieved when I saw he was okay.”

  “How about shooter?”

  “The perp, this Gary kid, he didn’t get off so lucky. He ended up forcing my hand, so I had to plug him twice.”

  “Jesus. Are you all right?”

  “Yeah,” I said, though I still felt a bit of remorse over what had happened. “I keep wishing he hadn’t forced my hand, though. He’s in intensive care, in police custody now.”

  “So that’s what kept you at work so late?”

  “Yeah, that and a mountain of ridiculous fucking paperwork.” My stomach growled anxiously.

  “Dig in, woman, before your belly eats you.”

  Nodding, I popped a chicken ball into my mouth. I was ravenous…

  I felt like I couldn’t eat enough fast enough and had to force myself not to gobble down my food.

  “Sam, what kind of paperwork? The shots fired stuff?”

  “I had to complete the longest occurrence report ever and tomorrow, I apparently get to be investigated by our own people, to see if my actions were legit, or if I fucked up and shot the guy for nothing. Like any cop with any sense of morals or ethics would shoot someone over nothing…”

  “I’ve only had to draw my gun on a few occasions.” Finished with the task of opening the wine, Neal lowered himself to the cushion across from me and began to fill our glasses. “I fired a warning shot once, to get someone to stop running. I haven’t popped my cherry yet and I hope I never have to.”

  “It’s not a very nice feeling,” I told him
. “That kid’s a fuck-up, but he doesn’t deserve to die and he just might, yet.”

  “When you say that he forced your hand, what do you mean by that?” He asked me, wanting more details.

  “The first shot I fired was in reaction to him aiming for me. I had warned him to drop his gun, but he was intent on getting a shot off, so I fired. He ended up dropping the gun, but he was reaching for the piece for a second attempt, even though I threatened to fire again. So I had no choice but to immobilize him.” I put another chicken ball in my mouth. “He was too far away for me to use my Taser and so, my hand was forced.”

  “Sounds like you had a shitty day.”

  “Tomorrow’s going to be even shittier. I just hope that the shooting review board and the chain of command see things the same way I did.”

  “I’m sure they will.”

  “Phil says that I can expect to be interviewed by Captain Briggs tomorrow, to explain first-hand what happened.”

  “That’s just routine. Don’t worry too much about it.”

  We ate the rest of our meal in silence, until we finally, sated our appetites.

  “Ready for dessert?” Neal asked, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

  “God no. I couldn’t. I’m stuffed.”

  “Oh don’t worry,” he said to me, standing up. “I’ll be the one doing all of the eating.”

  He walked around the coffee table to me and reached down for my hands. I could see the beginnings of a hard-on straining against his gym pants. I obliged him and got to my feet.

  He hooked his fingers in my belt loops and pulled my body close, so that I felt the warmth of his chest against mine, the swell of his pelvis against me.

  I turned my face up to him, knowing that he wanted to kiss me. His mouth found mine and I opened for him, the way he liked and he plundered my mouth, leaving me breathless.

  His hands found my breasts and kneaded them a moment before trailing down the sides of my body to my slender waist and then my belt buckle. His agile fingers unbuckled the belt and before I knew it, my zipper was undone and he was licking his lips as though mine had left a taste of candy on his.

  “Well, milady, let’s take off these jeans, shall we?”